


Heaven Is a Place on Earth

by kaianieves



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Pre-Canon, Road Trip, Supernatural Canon Big Bang 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 21:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19777246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaianieves/pseuds/kaianieves
Summary: Charlie Bradbury has been on the road for as long as she can remember, couch to couch and car to car. Parties, drinking- they’ve never been her favourite things, but they’ve been there. She’s never considered any place her home, though. Until she arrived at Harvelle’s Roadhouse. Until she met Jo.





	Heaven Is a Place on Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my gosh, it's been quite a journey! This was the first bang I've ever entered, and it was really fun. I'd like thank [hanneswrites](https://hanneswrites.tumblr.com/) for being my beta early on, and giving me the confidence with your notes to even continue this story. I'd like to thank [pimentogirl](https://pimentogirl.tumblr.com/) for being an awesome partner, and bringing your creativity into this project.
> 
> This is a project apart of the [Supernatural Canon Big Bang 2019.](https://spncanonbigbang.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Here](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146072938@N08/48265834731/), [here](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146072938@N08/48265836951) and [here](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146072938@N08/48266349222) are links to the amazing art for this story.  
> I hope you enjoy.

The leather seats vibrated just slightly as the car sped across the empty freeway. Behind the wheel sat Charlie Bradbury, not yet calling herself that. Carolyn Card was what she went by. Or that’s what her fake ID she’d made in a Kinko’s in Rochester said, anyway.

Charlie was driving a pretty sweet ‘91 Mustang, also from Rochester. You could lock your doors, but no car escaped the powers of a Slim Jim. It was only about a full day’s drive from New York to Nebraska non-stop, but she had taken a pit stop in Toledo, and then done a bit of partying in Detroit. The car had surprisingly held up, and what could Charlie say? Sometimes she got sentimental.

The bright city lights had changed to dark back roads with shot out street lights. Charlie had no clue why she was in Nebraska of all places. The state was known to be pretty boring, unless you wanted to take a field trip to a field of corn any time soon. It was just where she happened to end up.

The radio that had steadily been playing faint static for the last hour started connecting to a station. The song that weaved in and out was perky and upbeat- “Hey Ya!” by OutKast. It was new, and every station everywhere was playing it non-stop. Surprisingly, Charlie could still stand listening to it. The sound made her smile when she didn’t pay too much attention to the lyrics.

It was her time to celebrate! She was an officially minted adult. The big one-eight. Not that she hadn’t been doing adult things since bartenders, liquor store owners and club bouncers who didn’t give too much of a shit either way considered her “adult-looking” enough. Which was sixteen, by the way. Drug store foundation and heavy mascara was Charlie’s friend when it came to having fun.

The song ended, Andre3000’s high pitched vocals of nihilism tapering off to make way for Kelly Clarkson. She continued to drive, completely ignorant to everything but the road ahead of her. Ignorant to the monsters that lurked in the shadows and cornfields all around her.

She glanced at her gas tank. It was getting low. Charlie hadn’t seen a gas station in miles.

“This should be interesting,” she sighed to herself. Maybe she could push it a little farther, if she just drove a little faster. Stepping on the pedal, the car excelled forward, a short roar ripping from the engine as the speedometer jumped up. Charlie slowed when she saw blue lights in the distance. Eventually she pulled up to a gas station. Pulling the eight-gear into park, she popped the gas tank open with the small lever to the left under her seat. She zipped up her sweater, opened the car door and stepped onto the pale pavement.

Charlie reached into the back pocket of her jeans, pulling out a red leather wallet. She thought it was the coolest thing; had never seen anything like it but on celebrities. She had stolen it off this drunk girl who was being exceptionally racist to the club’s bouncer, slipping him half of the cash later on in the night. After a meal in Des Moines that she’d somehow managed to spread over three days, all that remained in the wallet was a fifty dollar bill.

Charlie lifted the gas pump from it’s alcove, turning and sticking it in the gas tank. She leaned against the car as she waited, jamming her right fist lightly in her sweater pocket. It’s what she did when she was nervous, which Charlie was; natural preservation instinct of being a woman. Alone, at a gas station in the middle of the night with no one else around. She knew how this real life horror movie could end.

Her stomach growled, interrupting the growing panic. Her hunger had been a distraction before, something she’d brushed off after she ran out of burger cut into quarters. Now it couldn’t be ignored. Standing on solid ground let Charlie feel how much of a hole her stomach felt like right now.

She closed her eyes, sighing through her nose before taking the gas pump out of the tank. She had to go inside anyways- why not buy a quick snack? Walking up to the station convenience store, she noticed the stacked display of windshield washer fluid. It was blue, the same blue of a Blue Raspberry Slushie. She would kill for one of those right now.

Charlie could feel the grime and germs on the metal handle on the door as she held it. Opening it quickly, she stepped inside. It was only a little warmer in here than it was outside, which was probably why the cashier was wearing a thick orange hoodie. She briefly smiled at him, looking over the shelves of flavoured pretzel pieces and the fridge full of ice cold energy drinks. The Slushie machine was at the back. Peach, Orange, Sour Grape… No Blue Raspberry.

Charlie settled on Peach, going for the not-mundane and not-disgusting; an in between of sorts. She grabbed a bag of chips from a shelf and a pepperette out of the little cardboard display off of the front counter, setting it all down in front of the cashier. His name tag read ‘KYLE’. Braces were screwed to his teeth as he smiled politely at her- purple rubber bands. Depending on the high school, that was either a very apt or very miserable decision.

“And gas,” Charlie said quickly. She peered over Kyle’s shoulder out at her car. “Pump number three.” Kyle nodded, typing some things into a bulky computer with a tiny screen. He scanned the food, putting it into a plastic bag with a wide, yellow smiley face on both sides.

“Forty dollars, please,” he said. Charlie reached for her wallet again, opening and very briefly staring at the fifty before taking it out and handing it to him. He nodded, opening the register and getting ten dollars change. Handing it to her along with her bag and her Slushie, Kyle asked, “Would you like a receipt?”

“I’m alright.” She shoved the ten dollar bill in her wallet, then shoved that into her sweater pocket before nodding at him. “Have a good night,” she said, not waiting for his rehearsed reply. Charlie walked out of the store, already sulking as she crossed to her car. She got behind the wheel again, slamming the door shut.

She had ten dollars. _Ten dollars._ That wasn’t going to buy her jack. She couldn’t even buy a drink for that- not anywhere decent. Resting her head on the leather steering wheel for just a moment, she tried to think. Sleeping in her car was no big deal; she’d been doing it pretty much the entire time. It was the attraction part, the _doing things_ part that was the problem. And the food part, but she’d taken care of that for now.

Charlie took a sip of the melting Peach Slushie she held in her hand. It tasted ultra-sweet; like sugar on cocaine. Smiling around the straw, she reached under the steering wheel and played with the wires. Eventually they caught a spark, the car humming to life. She pulled the car into drive, pulling around the gas pump and back onto the road.

As she drove, Charlie’s eyes started to droop. She yawned as the car slowed. It was time to find a place to park and sleep. She’d been awake for almost twenty hours now.

The road started to curve, and somewhere along the way there was a dip in the cement of the highway, leading to a parking lot. She pulled the car along the bend, then into the parking lot. There was a tall, rickety-looking building with a wooden porch at the end of it. Harvelle’s Roadhouse, according to the sign.

Charlie couldn’t tell if it was abandoned or not, but for tonight it would do. She would try and make it the rest of the way through the state to Colorado, and then maybe to Las Vegas or California. She pulled the car into park, reaching down under the steering wheel, untwisting the battery and ignition wires as carefully as she could in relative darkness.

When the car powered down, Charlie sighed. She threw herself into the backseat through the small space between the two front seats, laying down horizontally and ignoring the slight pain in her back. It was officially night. For the rest of the world it had been night for a while, the darkness even leeching away to give space for upcoming sunrise. But for Charlie, the night and her rest had just started.

Just another symptom of her sinking into another world- her own little world, where everything was highly saturated and ultra entertaining, twenty four hours a day and seven days a week. Except right now it wasn’t. Charlie was laying in an older car in a parking lot in the middle of Nowhere, Nebraska. She wondered if that was an actual place. It probably was. America had weirder names for cities and towns.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Charlie tried to bring sleep faster. She didn’t like to think too much, or go without doing something. If she thought, then she’d actually have to _think-_ and all of those thoughts would pass through her mind, some would seep into her brain and successfully rot it entirely. It was a skill she learned when she was younger, when she started her first road trip. If running from the FBI was considered a road trip.

But back to thinking. There were so many things that she could think about, both good and bad. Good, like that girl she’d met in Des Moines on her way out of the city. She had a blonde pixie cut and brown eyes, one of them lazy. Her smile was off-white and beautiful. Charlie, or Carolyn if you’d asked the girl, only got to spend a short time talking to her. She felt they had a connection, though. That under different circumstances, if she had planned on staying in Des Moines- if she _could_ have, they might have fallen in love. Stayed together for a few years, and have a glorious, messy and romantic love.

No. Unfortunately, Charlie didn’t get to have that with her. With anyone. Partly because it was still deeply frowned upon- presented popularly by the freshest oncoming slang, “metrosexual”- but also because she could never stay in one place for too long.

Sleep finally crept up on her, catching her right before the thoughts seeped in to do their dirty work. Her eyes fluttered shut as she noticed the light sound of rain falling against the car.

Charlie awoke to a similar noise, the falling of something. At first she thought she’d only woken up moments after her eyes had closed, but the sun was shining brightly through the windshield, directly into her eyes. It was disappointing. Sleep had felt like a mere second, a blip that didn’t leave her rested at all.

The noise continued, louder this time. Looking ahead, Charlie saw a fist knocking on the back door window. Hesitantly, she sat up and reached for the window handle, rolling it down. An older woman’s face appeared in place of the fist. She was blond with a handful of large freckles around the edge of her face. Stress lines covered her forehead, and her smile lines were prominent when she opened her mouth to speak.

When she did, she cut herself off for a moment. It was like she was prepared to say one thing, but once she’d seen Charlie, she decided to take a different course of action. “Listen honey,” the woman said, “you can’t park your car here.” She had a vague mid-western accent and a motherly authority. It felt like she was getting lectured by her mother. “You need to move it.”

“Alright,” Charlie said. “Sorry. I was just parking it for the night.” She moved between the two front seats again, settling into the driver’s seat and reaching under the steering wheel. She could feel eyes on her as she twisted the wires back together.

Inspecting the car quickly, the woman saw dirty clothes in a pile on the floor in the back seat, and the now empty Slushie cup next to it. The inside smelled a bit like a rotting raccoon.

“You look like you could use something to eat. Am I right?” the woman asked. Charlie stopped what she was doing, sitting up and looking over the seat headrest at her. There was a small smile on her thin lips and a look of mixed pity and sympathy in her eyes. At that look, Charlie would have turned her down on principle. She didn’t want or need people’s pity. But she was still tired, and there was still a hole in her stomach, and she definitely needed a shower if there was one.

“Yeah, actually,” Charlie said. The woman stepped back from the car, waiting for her to get out. She did, slamming the car door behind her so the woman wouldn’t see more of the disaster that it was inside. It was her life, what she lived and breathed daily. When faced with other people, people who seemingly _had things,_ that life somehow felt and became embarrassing.

They both walked in relative silence towards to rickety-looking Roadhouse. When they made it to the steps, the woman said, “The name’s Ellen, by the way.”

Charlie stopped walking a few steps short of her. “Carolyn,” she said.

Ellen eyed her for a moment, amusement clear on her face. All she said was, “Okay.”

Walking into the Roadhouse felt like transcending worlds. Outside, it was sunny and damp from last night’s rain, and in here it was dark and faded. The air smelled of booze and nicotine and greasy food. No one was here yet, which made sense as Charlie glanced at the clock. It was barely noon yet.

She followed Ellen to the bar, sitting on a soft leather stool. “Water?” Ellen asked.

“Yes, please,” Charlie said. Ellen just nodded, but it shocked Charlie. She hadn’t said “the magic word” in a long time; didn’t feel the need to when you were dealing with asshole bartenders or snappy waitresses she would never see again anyway. It wasn’t like she’d be here in Nebraska for much longer, but there was something about Ellen that commanded respect. Apparently Charlie was willing to give into that.

There was a shuffle in the back, catching both of their attention. Eventually, another blonde woman appeared from what must have been the kitchen. She was younger than Ellen, her face more oval shaped. Her hair fell softly around her shoulders, and Charlie felt the sudden need to talk to her. She definitely had a type.

“Jo, what the hell were you doing back there?” Ellen asked. Then she handed Charlie her glass of water. Charlie sipped it, watching this play out with curiosity. Ellen knew this woman. Was she a friend? Or maybe a niece?

“Sorry, momma. I was organizing the lager,” Jo said. Her daughter. She looked over at Charlie and tilted her head a bit. “Who’s this?”

“Carolyn,” Ellen said. The way she said it had implications, but what those were, Charlie couldn’t decipher. Jo walked behind the bar next to her mother.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Carolyn. I’m guessing you were the one parked in the parking lot all night?” she asked. Charlie could feel her cheeks heating up. Did everyone need to know she was a screw up? Living in her car and parking it in random Roadhouse gravel parking lots just to get some goddamn sleep?

“Uh, yeah,” was all she said. She took another, longer sip of her water.

Ellen left them alone for a moment to see what Jo had done to the kitchen and the beer. Charlie set down her glass on the bar just as she left. Jo quickly grabbed it, dumping the contents in the sink and instead filling it up with vodka from the back of the bar behind her.

“What are you doing?” Charlie asked. Jo took a sip of it, then handed it to her.

“You look like you could use a drink… Carolyn.” She could finally figure out what that meant; Jo wasn’t as smooth about the pronunciation as her mother. It was the influx of disbelief.

Charlie took the drink from her, quickly gulping the rest down. The vodka burned her throat, and she held in a cough. It definitely wasn’t what she usually drank. “Carolyn Card, actually,” she said confidently. Jo’s chest started moving before the laugh came out of her mouth. She just couldn’t help it. “What?”

“That’s absolutely not your name, unless your parents were posh pricks who absolutely hated you,” Jo said.

“Well, maybe they were,” Charlie said halfheartedly.

“If they were, you wouldn’t be here.”

She didn’t have a response to that. Because while it wasn’t as simple as that- her parents certainly didn’t hate her, they’d lost their lives _because_ they loved her so much- she wasn’t about to tell a stranger her sob story. It was time to move on.

“Anyway,” Jo said, carrying on, “I don’t care about the past. What matters now is the present. Why’re you here, in Nebraska of all places?”

“Road trip,” Charlie said. Jo quirked her right eyebrow in disbelief. It made her look unbelievably hot as she leaned against the bar. “Seriously.”

“Can’t say that’s a new one,” Jo finally said.

“What is?” Ellen asked, walking back into the room.

“Carolyn over here’s on a road trip,” Jo repeated.

“Really?” Ellen asked.

“I’ve been to Detroit and Des Moines, and I’m just passing through Nebraska. Thinking of Las Vegas next.” She didn’t know why she was telling these people this.

“You got a thing for gamblin’?” Ellen asked. She wiped down the bar, taking the empty glass in front of Charlie and setting it down in the sink.

“More of a partier, really.”

“Depends, but Nebraska might just be the place for you, sweetheart. We got parties all the time.”

Jo snorted. “At dive bars full of handsy trucker creeps,” she said. Ellen gave her a look, one that if Charlie’s mom had given her would have made her curl in on herself. Instead Jo stood tall, confident in her words. Ellen sighed, shaking her head.

“Point is, there’s fun around here. Maybe you should stay a while- rent a room here.”

Charlie laughed a little. “So you’re trying to squeeze some cash out of me, is that it?”

“All I’m sayin’ is that car outside might not be too comfortable.”

Jo looked at her, almost expectantly. Ellen rinsed out the glass in the sink and dried it off. “I can’t,” Charlie eventually said. Her financial situation was exactly piss poor- she couldn’t afford food, forget a room. “Thank you for the water.” She cleared her throat, looking at Jo for a moment. “I should get going.”

“Suit yourself, honey. See ya ‘round.” With that, Charlie nodded and made her way out of the building.

The gravel on the ground outside was dry now, as was the air. When she reached for the car door handle, it burned hot. Cursing, she let go of it quickly. She turned around when she heard someone calling for her.

“Hey, hey wait!” It was Jo, rushing out of the Roadhouse. She slowed to a walk when she was close enough not to yell.

“Did you want me to pay for the vodka or something?” Charlie asked, slightly irritated.

“No,” Jo said, “I had an idea. You need money, right?” She didn’t even question how Jo knew that. The sleeping-in-her-car thing made it pretty evident.

“Yeah.”

“We need a new waitress. Last one ran off with her new boyfriend, and my mom’s been looking for one for a while.”

“I’ve never worked in the food industry,” Charlie said.

“She doesn’t have to know that,” Jo said, referring to her mother. “C’mon. No strings attached, scout’s honour.”

Charlie stood from the car, letting her arms fall to her sides. “When do I start?”

That night, it turned out. Ellen had her park the Mustang at the side of the Roadhouse, and Jo showed her to an empty room at the back of the Roadhouse. A few weeks passed, and Charlie eventually got the hang of the whole waitressing thing. And the loudness, and how not to slosh a whiskey neat across the floor from her tray. She met Ash, the odd tech genius that would hang out every now and then. Jo called her Carolyn, still with that tone of amusement and disbelief.

Then one day, she asked, “So what’s your real name?”

“You know my real name.” It was late- or early, depending on how you told time. The sun would rise soon enough and the Roadhouse was empty, spare the two of them and Ellen cleaning up in the back.

“Your name is _not_ Carolyn Card,” Jo scoffed. “C’mon, tell me. It can be our little secret.” She was leaning across the bar in front of Charlie, who has resting her chin on her hands.

For a moment, Charlie didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to tell Jo her name; Celeste Middleton felt so alien.

“Fine, you want to know?” Jo nodded. “Charlie. Charlie Bradbury.”

Jo pursed her lips, mulling it over in her mind. “It’s definitely more believable than _Carolyn Card.”_ She nodded her head. “Charlie.” 

She noticed the lack of the disbelieving tone. Jo looked at her, then walked away without another word.

“That’s it?” Charlie called after her. She didn’t get a response.

Charlie grew fond of the Roadhouse. The dim light in the bar gave everything a yellow wash, like a grimy, sunny blanket to cover all the ugly. It reflected off of the top shelf bottles, creating what looked like lens flares. 

She grew fond of Ash and his strange ways, of Ellen and her motherly nature. Of Jo, for just being Jo. Everything she did seemed amazing; she could shoot guns and talk trash and gun a beer quicker than any man, biker or boozer who walked into that bar. When her mother wasn’t looking, of course.

She had this fascination with Charlie’s name; she seemed to be saying it all the time. Eventually it stopped feeling hollow, like the Halloween mask of the month she was slapping onto a fake ID. Charlie Bradbury _was_ her now, and she didn’t think that that would ever change. She had a feeling Jo had something to do with that.

“Joanna Beth Harvelle, I said no,” Ellen said. Charlie had been in Nebraska for about a month now, slowly but surely gaining and saving money. She was wiping down the dirty tables from the night before. She could hear the two of them, Jo and Ellen, before she could see them. Ellen walked briskly into the room from somewhere else- presumably outside.

Jo trailed behind her, irritation evident on her face. “Come on, momma. I’m an adult now.”

“As long as you live under my roof, you will do what I tell you.” Then, after she noticed Charlie’s presence, she said quieter, “You don’t know what’s out there.”

Charlie moved onto a table, farther away from their conversation. It was clearly private, and she didn’t want to seem nosy. She did see as Jo floundered for words and her mother dismissed her, though. Ellen left as quickly as she came, off to do whatever needed to be done next. She definitely got shit done.

Then she felt Jo’s eyes on her, causing Charlie to scrub at the table a little harder. She sat on a stool at the edge of the bar, some distance still between the two of them.

“Sorry about that,” Jo said, leaning against the wood behind her.

Charlie looked up. “It’s fine,” she said. “If you don’t mind my asking, what was that about- your argument, I mean.”

Jo sighed, sidling up to tell a story she’d clearly already told a couple of times before. “I want to go to a concert. REO, they’re playing in Rapid City and I’ve saved enough for tickets. All I’m missing is a way to get there.”

That gave Charlie an idea. Maybe a bad idea, considering that Jo’s mom would almost certainly be pissed if she even said it aloud, forget went through with it. But the sudden look on Jo’s face seemed to translate she had had the exact same idea.

“Wait, you have a car, right?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Charlie said. She walked over the bar and set her rag down on it. “But… I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Jo. Your mom seemed pretty strictly against it.” Jo’s face morphed into a manipulative pout. It was still cute, though.

“Come _on,”_ Jo said.

“What if you got Ash to take you?” Charlie suggested.

“He’s off somewhere out of state for a few weeks. He’s, ‘off to build the world’s first supercomputer that has all of America’s finest brews,’ as he put it.” Jo said it like it was something lame, but to Charlie it sounded like a pretty cool quest.

There was silence for a moment, Charlie trying to sort the pros and cons. Pros: spending a shit ton of time with Jo, since Rapid City was at least six hours away, and getting to see REO live. Cons: pissing off Ellen, possibly losing her job. The cons should have outweighed the pros. In the moment, it felt like they didn’t.

“Fine,” Charlie not-so-seceded.

They hadn’t talked about it much beyond that. Jo told her the concert was in two days, so they would leave sometime in the next twenty four hours. Charlie couldn’t sleep, thinking about it too much. It was positive thinking, for once. Whenever she thought of Jo, it was a delight.

She finally did drift off to sleep, only to be woken up what felt like no time later. Jo had shaken her shoulder, rousing her awake. The round-faced on the wall behind her said it was just past dawn.

“Come on, get dressed,” Jo whispered.

“We’re leaving now?” Charlie asked, still half asleep.

“Yeah- we can’t leave when my mom’s awake, she’ll catch us. She might still catch us now, come on.”

Charlie got up, only with a mild reluctance. Jo waited outside the bedroom door until Charlie opened it, dressed. Jo told her it would take too long to pack a bag.

“So am I supposed to stay in the same clothes for two days?”

“You can borrow something of mine, alright. Let’s go.” Jo quickly made her way down the creaky old staircase, somehow not making a sound. She truly was amazing.

They rushed off of the Roadhouse’s porch, around the building where Charlie’s Mustang was parked. It was still unlocked, had been since Ellen had her park it there.

“You know, it’s a miracle this thing wasn’t stolen,” Jo said, ducking and sitting in the front passenger seat.

“Call me lucky,” Charlie replied. She closed her car door, then reached under the steering wheel again and twisted the wires, then sparked the battery. The vehicle rumbled to life, getting her to smile. There was a nostalgia in hearing the engine start up, for some reason. Probably because she hadn’t heard it in a while.

Carefully, Charlie looked behind her as she backed out of the spot next to the Roadhouse, turning and pulling to the edge where the parking lot and the open road met.

“Which way?” she asked.

Jo had been unfolding a map the entire time, spreading it on her lap. It was still dark, so she held a mini flashlight she’d produced from somewhere in her hand.

“Uh, left,” Jo said. So Charlie turned left.

This area of land was familiar. If they kept going in this direction, they’d come upon the gas station she’d stopped at weeks ago. Charlie wondered briefly if Kyle was working tonight.

“Turn left at that road,” Jo said, looking up from the map and nodding to where the paved road made a ninety degree angle. Looked like she would never know.

The car turned. They were on back roads, headed towards the freeway. Charlie’s head lolled as they hit a pothole.

“So do you like driving?” Jo asked. Charlie hadn’t been paying attention, too absorbed looking ahead at the road.

“Uh, yeah. You could say that.”

“Sorry,” she said, “If you didn’t want to come. I know I was kind of…”

“Manipulative?” Charlie finished for her. A small, embarrassed smile flashed on Jo’s face. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t think it would be fun. I’m on a road trip, after all. Can’t stay in one place for too long or it defeats the purpose.”

“Sounds like a very nomadic life,” Jo said. Charlie nodded, eyes back on the road. “How long you been traveling?”

Charlie was at a crossroad here, both figuratively and literally. She stopped at a stop sign. Should she just tell her? Would Jo really care? It seemed as though she already knew, to some degree. This was what Charlie did- who she was. She didn’t have a home, didn’t stay anywhere too long except her car. Jo didn’t seem to care, either. The shame of it was very decisively choking out that argument, though. Because there was only one reason why she had to live like this at all. At the end of things, it was her fault. She didn’t complain, because she’d put herself there. There were worse places to end up, as Charlie knew.

“Which way do I go?” she asked instead.

Jo looked down at the map. “Pass through across. That way,” Jo pointed to the road straight ahead. She didn’t follow up on her question, leaning back against her leather seat. About thirty minutes later, Jo fell asleep. She didn’t snore, just silently blew out breaths from her mouth. Kind of like Winnie the Pooh. Charlie thought it was cute.

That’s when a thought occurred to Charlie. A terrifying one, really. It made her check herself, clearing her throat even though there wasn’t anyone there but her and Jo, who wasn’t even conscious. She stared straight ahead of her as the thought did it’s dirty work.

She liked Jo. How could she not have realized it until now, when they were away from everyone else, stuck together for the next forty-eight hours. That was very convenient. Charlie wanted to bang her head on the steering wheel, pull over to the side of the road and run into a field to await the sun until it rose and melted her into the dirt. But of course, she couldn’t do that. Mostly because it was impossible, but also because if it was, that would be highly unethical.

She was an adult now, she reminded herself. This wasn’t some teen movie, she could handle a stupid crush. Ignore it, fake it ‘til you make it, whatever incompetent success motto you wanted to throw out there, Charlie Bradbury would try to become the embodiment of it for the next two days. Surely she could do that.

By hour three of driving, Charlie was exhausted. Jo had woken up from her nap, putting in one of her CD’s she’d brought along for the ride in the stereo. It wasn’t REO- that would have been a little too on the nose, Charlie figured. The Doors’ self-titled album. “The Crystal Ship” sounded throughout the car. She recognized it almost immediately, as she sometimes caught it streaming out of the jukebox back at the Roadhouse when the place was empty. It only made her eyes droop more.

“You’re gonna’ swerve off the road if you drive any longer,” Jo said.

“I’m fine,” Charlie insisted. She yawned.

Jo shook her head, a wry smile crossing her lips. “Come on, pull over.” Charlie did, and slowly she got out of the driver’s seat and traded places with Jo. It felt strange, letting her drive. This was Charlie’s car, and she was always in control of it, but right now she wasn’t. She was vulnerable, exhausted and letting Jo drive them the rest of the way to Rapid City. Jo could take her anywhere, drive them to the Grand Canyon and straight off the edge, _Thelma and Louise_ style. Maybe she was too tired, or maybe she trusted Jo enough, but she wasn’t all too worried. She was safe here, her car was safe here.

When Charlie woke up again, the first thing she saw was a view out the window. There were only a few cars around them, and there was still no light outside, but she could see her faint reflection as she sat in the car from the window of a fast food restaurant. They had arrived, and soon it would be time to get their party on.

She rolled over, leaning her other shoulder against the car seat. Jo was looking ahead, waiting for the traffic light to turn green again. She glanced over right before it changed.

“Morning sleepy head,” she said. It was oddly personal. Charlie liked it.

“Morning,” she croaked. “We’re here?”

“We’re here,” Jo confirmed. “I found us a motel a few blocks away.”

The motel parking lot pavement was cracked, the yellow lines marking where the spots where faded. Jo pulled the Mustang into the spot in front of the door, then turned the car off. She got out, rounding the car and opening the back door to grab their bags. Charlie was still nuzzled up against the seat headrest, trying to catch a few more minutes of rest.

“You can sleep inside, you know,” Jo said. Charlie sighed at that, unbuckling her seat belt and getting out as well. Jo handed her her bag, and together they walked through the single glass door that led inside.

The lobby’s walls were a deep maroon, and this motel only had the faint stench of mothballs and old lady perfume. It was a tourist attraction, after all, not some small almost-village in the middle of nowhere; they had to keep the place classy, or at least classy by motel standards.

A young woman was waiting at the front desk, glasses perched on her face. She had olive skin and a straight black bob, and she looked about as tired as Charlie felt.

“Hi,” Jo said, walking right up to her. “We’d like a room.”

“Sure,” the woman said. Her name tag said ‘YVETTE’ in dark red letters. “Queen or two twins?”

Jo glanced back at Charlie before answering. “Two twins.” Yvette nodded, typing on a heavy looking keyboard, the screen reflecting in her glasses lens.

“Cash or credit?” Jo handed her four twenty dollar bills, answering her question. Yvette took the cash from her, sorting it into the cash register under the computer. Then she turned around, eyes travelling across a wide wooden board of hooks holding keys, numbered plaques above each hook. She took the keys off of number fourty-five, turning back again and handing it to Jo.

“Thanks,” Jo said. Yvette simply nodded. Charlie and Jo walked down the hallway, which smelled more and more like stale cigarette smoke the longer they walked. Not so classy after all. When they reached the elevator, Charlie pressed the tattered plastic button pointing up. They stood there in silence, bags in hand. It was too early to be awkward, even for Charlie.

The elevator arrived, sliding open and letting out a wafting smell of- get this!- more stale cigarette smoke, with subtle undertones of grandma’s perfume. Jo and Charlie stepped on, Charlie leaning against the mirrored wall panel so she wouldn’t drop to the floor.

Jo was looking at her. God was she beautiful. Yeah, she looked like a bear ready to hibernate right now. But a beautiful bear ready to hibernate. A bear you could put on the cover of a fashion mag, and Joanna Beth Harvelle would be an assured reader. Her reflection did look quite funny, though. Her face was smooshed up against the mirrored wall, which probably wasn’t too sanitary.

The elevator made a ‘ding!’ noise, the doors sliding open again, now on a different floor. The lighting was darker here, the floors carpeted instead of a sand coloured laminate. The carpet had white trillium flowers in bloom, strung together by smokey looking vines about ten shades lighter than the black background. The motel room doors were the same colour as the lobby downstairs, maroon red. It clashed and hurt Jo’s eyes a little.

“Come on, sleepy,” she said. Charlie groaned, getting off the wall and walking off the elevator after Jo. Room forty-five was three down from the elevator, to the left. It took a minute for lock to unstick, but when it did, the door flew open. The room smelled clean- the first place that didn’t have an odor of any kind so far. It was a plain brown with brown coloured floors, brown coloured furniture. This place needed a new interior decorator, stat.

Charlie didn’t bother checking the bed for weird stains or bed bugs, flopping down on the one closest to the door. Her red hair spread out around her, like a tall crown of cherry-coloured blood.

“I was thinking, we could get up at around-” Jo stopped when she heard a light buzz. It was Charlie, snoring behind her. A small smiled crept up Jo’s face. Her legs were hanging off the bed, arms up above her head. Crouching, Jo took off her shoes for her, moving her properly onto the bed by her legs.

She then stood up, sitting heavily on the bed across from Charlie’s. She laid down, taking everything in. She was here- in Rapid City! Going to see REO Speedwagon and have fun and maybe get a little drunk, all without the judgmental and motherly eye of Ellen Harvelle constantly on her.

Jo was here with someone she really cared about, too. There was just something about Charlie that had drawn her in and captured her there. She was an obvious enigma, but had a charming awkwardness to her. Her and Ash would hang out sometimes, gushing over electronics and motherboards and whatever of the sort. She had passions and hopes and dreams, and an overall innocence to her, no matter what she’d been through. Maybe that was what had drawn Jo to her.

Jo kicked off her own shoes, listening as they thud against the floor. Pulling the rough sheets over herself, she sighed and closed her eyes.

It was Charlie who woke up first. She didn’t exactly remember getting into bed, and her clothes were sweaty and uncomfortable. Jo slept peacefully across from her; she didn’t snore, the blanket rising and falling as she breathed. She kind of looked like a beautiful fairy princess, resting after a long and treacherous battle. The battle, however, was just beginning. The two of them had today to explore the town, and tomorrow night was concert night.

Charlie rolled over, glancing at the digital alarm clock next to her. It was already three in the afternoon. Stretching and getting out of bed, she walked towards the window, peering out of the blinds. It was sunny. The sidewalk had moderate traffic; a woman in a blue sundress passed by.

She turned away, unzipping her jeans and taking off her t-shirt. She grabbed her bag, walking into the bathroom.

Standing under the water, it felt warm and all-encompassing. It ran down Charlie’s face as she closed her eyes and held her breath. Her brain was on autopilot, wandering. Sleep had been empty static, and now her conscience was taking full advantage of the mental real estate.

Jo, holding her hand over the stick shift in the car. Jo climbing into bed next to her. Jo tipsily flirting with her at a table in the Roadhouse. Jo leaning in real close, their lips just about to connect.

The water turned from warm to ice cold- what’s cooler than being cool?- taking Charlie out of her daydreams. She squealed, reaching for the faucet handles and shutting off the water. She pulled back the shower curtain, stepping over the bathtub ledge onto the cold tile floor.

She pulled on a tank top- she’d stolen it from a girl in Springfield- and underwear from the bag sitting on the ledge of the sink. Wrapping her towel around her head, she opened the bathroom door. Jo was awake now, sitting up in her bed.

“Morning,” she said.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Charlie smiled. “We’re out of hot water.”

“I could tell.” Jo got up from her bed. She was in the same clothes as last night, too. Charlie raised her eyebrows in confusion. “I heard you,” she explained.

Charlie huffed a quick, punchy sigh. “Great.” That’s embarrassing.

“So,” Jo started, “Today, I was thinking we’d hit the town- be a real couple of tourists for a few hours.”

“I don’t know… The locals of any popular city anywhere usually aren’t too fond of them. And I’m an inherent people pleaser.”

Jo walked by her, face close for a moment as she approached the crappy plastic coffee machine. “Well then, time to strap on your bucket hat and grab that Rapid City tour guide.”

The sun was hot, a beating high of eighty-six degrees. Charlie was glad she’d worn a tank top to accommodate the jeans she was wearing. Jo seemed barely fazed by the heat, wearing a t-shirt and shorts. On her face sat a pair of sunglasses you’d expect your local sorority girl to own.

“You really went for the whole vacation thing, huh?” Charlie asked. Granted she was only given about three minutes to pack before Jo’s patience wore thin and paranoia took over, causing her to rush Charlie out of the Roadhouse.

“I don’t know, maybe. I don’t get out much.”

“And why is that?” It was a question Charlie had always sort of wanted to ask- why Jo didn’t go out more, where her friends were. Surely some had stuck around after high school. Not exactly _everyone_ made it out of Nebraska, after all.

“My mom, she’s… protective. You’ve probably noticed.” She had. She wondered about that, too. Charlie had seen overbearing parents- this one girl in New York, an unfortunate closet case, her parents were brimming with neurotic helicopter parent syndrome. The situation between Ellen and Jo was different. There seemed to be a legitimate danger, a justified worry in Ellen’s tone whenever she overheard their hushed arguments.

“Do you have a stalker or something?” Charlie asked.

“What? God, no. I mean, it’d be pretty plausible in Nebraska but… No, it’s not that. She’s just a little too protective, y’know? Won’t let me out of the nest to spread my wings, because she thinks I’ll tumble to my death the minute I step out.” There was a weight to Jo’s words that didn’t sit quite right with Charlie, but she let it be. For now.

She unfolded the map she’d found in the motel lobby. “There’s a museum a block away? Sound interesting?” she asked.

Jo leaned just over her shoulder, which gave Charlie impossible chills in the sweltering heat. “Ancient wonders from around the world… all in the grand Rapid City Museum,” she read off the page. “Sure.” They walked, passing by other tourists meandering down sidewalks. Inside it was air conditioned, much to their relief. A group of people, five or six, were gathered at the front. A woman with a floppy straw hat stepped aside, revealing a man in an ill-fitting suit. He was balding, maybe forty-five, with the face of a salesman ready to con you out of all your money. Charlie had seen men like him before- she just hoped he didn’t fit the standard.

“Ah, welcome ladies!” he said, very showman-like. “We were just getting started on a tour. You’re just in time.” How convenient. The man smiled, turning and raising a hand to guide the clump through the small museum. His gleaming name tag revealed his name was Douglas.

“The first thing we’re taking a look at today, ladies and gentlemen, is a bust of the historic…” Charlie zoned out. This was already a snooze fest, and they’d been here less than a minute. She turned to Jo, ready to complain and leave. She looked surprisingly interested, which peaked Charlie’s interest too, momentarily at least.

Douglas had already finished talking about the bronze bust of whatever-his-name-was, and walked the group farther into the building, down a wood paneled hallway. There were two glass windows, letting in the afternoon sunlight. In front of the other wall were two glass cases, side by side. Inside each was an elevated and displayed velvet pillow, which both held beautiful pieces of jewelry.

“These here,” Douglas said, waving to the first and nearest case, “are the pearls of Thelma Gerald, famous jazz singer in the early 1920’s. Ms. Gerald performed in the likes of the Cotton Club, won awards for her impeccable voice, and knew some of the most famous people of the time.” 

I wonder how famous she actually is if you have to tell us who she is, Charlie thought. Then there was the kicker. “Unfortunately Ms. Gerald died in a car accident in 1927, just after a performance. These pearls were recovered from the scene, and have been mildly restored.” The tourists ogled the pearls for a long moment, ooh-ing and aw-ing before Douglas moved on to the next display, a pair of ruby red earrings.

Museums always gave Charlie the heebiejeebies, as well as just being fundamentally wrong in her mind. You were putting on display people’s lives, that they probably would have preferred to have kept private? Did no historian or museum worker ever think about that? Maybe King Tut just wanted to rest in his tomb, not have his body moved all around the world to be ogled by strangers who a majority didn’t truly give a shit about him as a person. Why couldn't this museum have let Thelma Gerald and her pearls rest, lost to time or some twentieth century police department filing system. Instead they displayed the tragedy, _her_ tragedy.

Douglas ushered the tourists into another room; it had the same wood paneled walls and was hexagon shaped. The ceiling was a dome up above. An item here seemed to catch Jo’s eye. It was a gun; Charlie knew nothing of them, but this one looked rather pretty. It was bone white, with metal accents here and there and on the trigger. It adorned dainty carvings, as well, with a once clear but now mildly yellowed diamond on the butt.

Douglas seemed to notice that it had Jo’s attention, and called her out for it. “Ah, yes. She’s quite a beauty, isn’t she?” he said affectionately. “The gun of Rosemary Ryan, Texas gunslinger.” Then he turned to the crowd. “According to legend, he never lost a duel. Until, well, one day he did of course.” Douglas laughed. Charlie frowned in disgust.

“You want to get out of here?” Jo was still staring at the gun, even as Douglas moved on. “Jo?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure, let’s go,” she said. When Douglas and the other tourists had their backs turned, Charlie and Jo made it back through the hallway and into the main lobby. Pushing open the glass doors, Charlie sighed.

“Man, I didn’t like that,” she said.

“I thought it was interesting,” Jo said.

“Clearly. I had to almost pry your eyes off of that gun.” Jo shifted her shoulders slightly. Their eyes met. “Oh no,” Charlie said. “Don’t tell me you want to… to steal it?” The last part was a harsh whisper.

“Look, no- but I’ve heard my mother talk about it before. According to her, it’s lucky or something. You can never miss a shot.”

“What exactly do you need a gun for?”

Jo swallowed. “I think it would be cool, is all. Finally prove to her that I can actually _do_ something,” she said.

“But we’re not stealing the gun,” Charlie said firmly.

“We’re not stealing the gun,” Jo agreed, almost sadly. “It’s just a hypothetical.”

The awkwardness of that interaction seemed to fade as they walked some more. Jo and Charlie found shelter in a grill, sitting in the back corner. It was shady and cool, thanks to A/C. Charlie got a burger, and Jo ordered fries and a Coke.

“So,” Charlie said, “What do you want to do this evening?” She took a big bite of her burger.

“I’m not really the partying type,” Jo said. Charlie nodded.

“We could stay in, see if something is on pay-per-view?”

Jo stuck a french fry in between her teeth, chewing slowly. She watched as Charlie really dug into her burger. Ketchup got on her nose, and she giggled. “Sounds like a plan,” she said.

When they got back to the hotel room, it was around six-thirty. The energy in the room was mellow, the two of them relaxed. In the morning Jo would certainly be buzzing like a live wire, ready to see REO live and in colour. For now she seemed at peace, maybe even a little sleepy. The sun and the walking had been a lot.

Charlie sat on her bed, Jo on hers. The sheets were rough on her skin as she picked at them. Charlie had the remote, aiming it at the tube TV and surfing the channels. _Karate Kid_ was on at least three of them. Molly Ringwald’s face eventually flashed on screen at channel eight-five.

“Hold on,” Jo said quickly. Charlie had already moved onto channel eighty-six. She pressed the small blue button, going back. It was _The Breakfast Club_ playing, because of course it was. Ringwald’s character, Claire and Allison were talking. Allison was crouched under a table, face pale, leaning in.

“It’s kind of a double edged sword, isn’t it?” she asked rhetorically. It was the iconic ‘It’s a Trap’ scene. 

“You know, I’ve always thought they would have sort of a thing,” Jo said aloud. She wasn’t even thinking, just sort of staring at the screen with her head at an angle. Thinking out loud, so to speak.

Once she’d realized what she said, though, her head whipped to Charlie. Jo wondered what her reaction time would be, what her _reaction_ would be. There was none. Jo kept waiting, another ten, twenty, thirty seconds. Charlie nodded slightly, watching the scene play out.

It was Charlie’s turn to look at Jo. “What?” she asked. She seemed hesitant, but Jo didn’t say anything. “I think I could see it. Interesting archetype connection.”

Jo opened her mouth, and out came a mix between a laugh and a high pitched sigh of relief. So Charlie wasn’t one of those Westboro Baptist types.

“I just think it’d be cute,” Jo said.

“That too.”

The movie carried on. Jo slumped further away from the headboard and more towards her pillow as the night drew on. When the movie ended, she was halfway sitting, back smooshed into her pillow.

“You’re gonna’ break your neck like that,” Charlie said, loud enough to rouse her.

Jo sat up, groaning. Her back was sore. She must have been like that for at least half an hour. The credits ended and a commercial for a kids’ toy came on, bright and loud and colourful. Jo groaned, laying down completely and pulling her pillow over her face.

“I’ll turn it down.” The volume did decrease. Jo couldn’t see the flashing colours anymore. “It’s only eight o’clock. Why are you so tired?” Charlie asked, laughing a little. It was a good question. Here it just felt so… relaxed. Like Rapid City was a little bubble universe, safe away from the blood and beer and monsters… literally. It’d been quite the feat to keep that tidbit of information from Charlie. She wanted to tell her, because she seemed like the type of girl who would need to know- vampires liked to go for party girls. Especially young ones. Jo would say impressionable, but the description didn’t seem quite apt.

Ellen had sworn her to secrecy after she’d offered Charlie the job. Ash got the speech too, though, so Jo felt less targeted. It almost concerned her that her mother could predict or imagine her letting it slip during pillow talk or something- not that that would ever happen, obviously. She wouldn’t have sex with a _girl._ Jo didn’t swing that way. Or at least that’s what she told herself in seventh grade when she met Amanda Gradley, and then again in junior year when Katie McMaster held her hand on the bus trip back from that science center field trip. She was the girl who lived in a bar, which wasn’t that weird to any one of her classmates. As she got older, it was even a perk. But Jo was always the weird girl with the knife collection hiding behind the booze, up in her bedroom in the top dresser drawer. The secretive girl who didn’t like to talk to people, who didn’t like and got quite irritated by stupid questions. And even to the people who got past all of that brick walling, she was still the girl who could never go out or have sleepovers or study for an hour or two.

Here Jo was, sleeping on grainy sheets in a happy bubble world, and she was still living as that girl.

A blaring laugh track cut through the lowered volume. Jo turned towards the TV, dragging the pillow off of her face. _Whose Line Is It Anyway_. Charlie sat, slumped against her headboard as Jo had before. She laughed quietly.

“What’cha watching?” Jo asked anyway.

“ _Whose Line Is It Anyway?”_ She stared at the screen that coloured her face a bright blue a moment longer, before looking at Jo. She scooted over from the middle of her bed, patting a mound of covers that had grown in her absence. It was a silent offering: Come join?

Jo got up without complaint, thin legs crossing the floor between their beds. She sat down, getting comfy under the blankets. Charlie was wearing sleep shorts and the tank top from their outing earlier in the day. Their shoulders brushed; her skin was hot.

Jo made a joke in her head. A small smile spread across her face. She watched TV with Charlie until the digital clock struck nine fifteen. Then she truly fell asleep, fully laying down in Charlie’s bed, hogging most of the pillow. Charlie didn’t complain, or try to get Jo to go back to her bed; she was definitely out cold until morning. She rested her head on the remaining sliver of pillow, inches away from the sleeping blonde next to her.

Jo startled awake, panicked. Not that there was anything to really be panicked about; sometimes her body- or her brain, she didn’t know which- just did this. She had something important, and she woke up worried she’d already missed it. Her heart was pounding as she unconsciously shrunk away from Charlie, leaning over the edge of the bed to check the time on the alarm clock. It read 9:00, and judging by the sun filtering through the curtains, Jo could assuredly guess it was still morning.

She took a deep breath, calming down. Right on schedule. Withdrawing from the cold air outside the blankets, she settled back into bed. Charlie was next to her, mouth open, the right side of her face resting on a small inch of the pillow. Her forehead was lightly tanned from their day in the sun yesterday.

She woke up slowly, a reaction to Jo’s panic. “Is everything alright?” she asked. Her voice was crackly.

“Yeah, fine. Just making sure we got up in time. Don’t want to miss the concert.”

Charlie snorted quietly. “I didn’t know you were this much of a Kevin Cronin fan.”

The comment made Jo aware of how close they were, physically. She’d felt Charlie’s breath on her arm. It made a small part of her skin crawl for reasons unknown. Jo listened to it, awkwardly sliding out of bed and onto her feet.

“I’m gonna’ grab a shower,” she explained. She moved her lips upward, giving Charlie a semblance of a smile. It was too quick for the redhead to even notice.

“Alright…” Charlie said. She sat up. Her head hit the wooden headboard as the bathroom door closed with a smack. Groaning, she sat up straighter, moving away from it and rubbing the crown of her head.

The water rushed on in the bathroom. The sound was muffled by the door. Charlie was alone now; alone to think. They’d go to the concert tonight, she was pretty sure it started at ten. The opener would be about a half hour, and then REO would come on stage. The crowd would cheer, and they’d play for about an hour or two, maybe? Thirty past midnight, plus a five hour drive with no traffic meant they’d be back in Nebraska by 5:30, six o’clock at the latest.

All of these calculations were a cover for Charlie to figure out how much shit she and Jo would be in when they got back. Because Ellen would be pissed, most definitely. She hadn’t felt the wrath of Mrs. Harvelle, but she’d seen glimpses: too-drunk biker creeps who were pushy when tapped out; quiet, low rumble arguments with her daughter- subject still unknown.

Charlie got out of bed, changing into new clothes. A blue and white tie-dye Rolling Stones t-shirt she’d gotten at an after party in the deep South. There was what she was fairly certain was a puke stain on the shoulder, but the pale green seemed to blend and look part of the design. Jo came out of the bathroom, hair and body wrapped in towels as she zipped the fly of her bell bottoms, sure to be another killer in the Rapid City heat.

“I’ll go scout us some breakfast,” she said. Jo looked surprised for a moment, but nodded.

“Sure,” she said. Then she started unwrapping the white towel, letting her damp blonde hair fall to her shoulders. Charlie grabbed her wallet, heading for the door almost at a jogging pace. She didn’t need to make things awkward by sticking around for Jo to change.

She got off the elevator, walking down the hallway. Charlie entered the lobby. A family was waiting at the front desk. Yvette wasn’t there; instead, a man with his hair tied back in a long brown ponytail stood being yelled at by the father.

“What do you mean, we can’t get the deposit back? We’ve only been here one night!”

“I’m sorry, sir. The deposit is to secure the room. We can return the eighty dollars for last night’s stay to your account,” Ponytail said. The father’s face went a splotchy, tomato-like red. His son, maybe six or so, was holding onto his mother’s long floral skirt. He cringed, stepping further behind his mother when he saw his dad’s face. He’d probably seen it before himself a few too many times.

Daddy Dearest almost lunged over the front desk, grappling the button down shirt Ponytail wore. The daughter cringed, wrapping her arms around her little brother, and the mother gasped.

“Jerry!” she cried softly.

“Listen here you little punk…” the man started.

“Hey!” Charlie called, a few feet away from the scene. Both the man and Ponytail turned to look at her, as well as the rest of the family. “Let him go. Take the return and leave.”

Daddy Dearest let the front desk clerk’s shirt go, turning towards her. She reached into her back pocket, holding onto her wallet. “I _will_ call the police. Don’t think they’d much appreciate someone ruining their Saturday morning.” The man grumbled, speaking quickly to the clerk before shuffling his family out the front doors. Charlie made sure to watch them leave, frowning at the little boy. Then she approached the desk.

Ponytail’s name tag read ‘PETE’. “Thanks for that,” he said, smoothing over his shirt.

“No problem. Dealing with assholes like that is almost a specialty.” Her hands were shaking just out of his view.

“Are you here to check out?” Pete asked.

“No, actually. I was wondering if you knew a place that serves breakfast?”

Charlie returned to the room twenty minutes later with a brown paper bag filled with breakfast burritos and hash browns, the latter so greasy it was seeping through the bottom of the bag. Jo was dressed when she came through the door, sitting on her bed. She seemed to be waiting for her.

“Guess who got breakfast?” Charlie held the bag in front of her. But Jo wasn’t paying attention. Her eyes were glued to the screen. The channel was turned to the local news station. On screen, a woman with a high blonde bouffant, dressed a red pant suit sat at a news desk. Across the screen were the words ‘Brutal Canyon Lake Park Animal Attack’.

“A deer was found mauled in Canyon Lake Park earlier this morning. South Dakota park rangers say they don’t know what could have attacked the animal, but are hedging on calling this a bear attack.” 

“What is it?” Charlie asked. A bear attack, in a park in a city with parks and outdoor recreational centers out the wazoo. Nothing out of character here, folks.

Jo reached for the remote beside her, shutting off the TV. “Nothing,” she said. “You got breakfast?”

They ate quickly, throwing the wrappers and bag in the room’s trash can. Jo seemed distant as they planned out their day; maybe she was thinking about when they got back to Nebraska, like Charlie was.

“Hey- Earth to Harvelle,” Charlie said.

“What?” Jo asked again.

“So the concert starts at ten, right?” Jo nodded. Charlie smiled with satisfaction, her calculations correct. “If we book it out of town as soon as it ends, we can make it back home by five-thirty tomorrow morning.”

Jo’s lips quirked up at the corners. “Home, huh?”

Charlie replayed what she’d said in her head, blushing. She’d called the Roadhouse home. She hadn’t even realized it, it just slipped out. It’d been a long time since Charlie had considered anything that in a long, long time. The only thing that maybe came close was her Mustang.

“Well, yeah,” she said, trying to backtrack. “I mean the Roadhouse.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s cute,” Jo said casually. Her lips grew into a real smile, still toothless, but there. Charlie’s chest felt warm.

They left the room, waiting for the elevator in the hallway. Charlie had the map spread out in her hands, looking at the route up to Mount Rushmore. The elevator doors slid open, and they both stepped on, Charlie not looking up from the map.

“It’s only a half hour drive,” she noted out loud.

The elevator ride was quick, the metal box stopping at the lobby floor and catching her off guard.

“Come on,” Jo said, getting her to look up. They walked past the front desk, for the second time that morning in Charlie’s case. Pete was unsurprisingly still there, nodding to Charlie. She smiled at him.

Jo gave her a curious look. “What?” Charlie asked innocently. “I helped him out of a jam this morning,” was all she said. Jo’s eyebrows rose. “Look, I’ll catch you up later, alright?”

The Mustang was waiting for them in the parking lot, paint glinting in the sun. Charlie got behind the wheel, Jo ducking down into the front passenger seat next to her. Seat belts were latched, the ignition was turned and the car pulled away from the motel. Traffic was heavy, tourists and locals alike honking their horns, so as soon as they pulled out of the parking and into an oncoming lane, they stopped. It was quiet, minus noises from cars and loud twenty-somethings passing by on the sidewalk in swimsuits, no doubt at least slightly tipsy with all the squealing and high pitched laughing that could be heard.

The car smelled like hot sun and sticky, melting candy. Had she left a Jolly Rancher in the backseat? She couldn’t shove her hand in a sweater pocket, so she picked at the leather of the steering wheel instead. Why was she nervous anyway?

Maybe it was Jo. She could feel her eyes looking and then flitting away to the window as they sat on the street. Maybe she was expecting something? A follow up to why the front desk clerk recognized her? Or last night… It was just sleep. Not a big deal- not at all. Except if it truly wasn’t a big deal, she wouldn’t have been scratching the upholstery of her car over it. Allison Reynolds’ voice echoed inside her head. “It’s a trap, it’s a trap.”

“What do you think you’ll do once the summer’s over?” Jo asked. It wasn’t the question that Charlie was expecting, and she took a moment before answering, stepping on the gas lightly as traffic finally moved.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, because you’re only here until you’ve got enough money to carry on with your… road trip, right? That’s what you said.” She’d completely forgotten. In the haze of everything, the high of finally- what? _Belonging_ somewhere, it had slipped Charlie’s mind that this all had an expiry date. She would quit her job at Harvelle’s Roadhouse, leaving behind the aforementioned Harvelles and company behind the continue being a state-traveling party girl. That’s what the plan had been all along.

She swallowed, something sour and wet in her throat. Her jaw clenched. Was she about to cry?

“Uh, I don’t know, honestly. I might go…” Charlie trailed off. She saw the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it frown on Jo’s face. “I might stay,” she quickly added. Her own heart seemed to lift at the words. That was what she wanted to do, was stay. With Jo, with Ellen and Ash. Late nights clearing beer bottles and mopping up a local bad ass's vomit. Nebraskan fields that stretched for miles, nothing but dry grass as far as the eye could see. She was sure if she made a couple phone calls, she could have a ratty couch with cigarette burns and the inexpungable smell of vodka and bile waiting for her as soon as she got to Detroit. But that’s not where Charlie wanted to be. Not anymore.

“I hope you stay,” Jo said. It wasn’t quiet, or extremely emotional. Casual, maybe a little softer than usual. It still reached Charlie’s heart. She hoped she’d stay too.

The rest of the car ride was filled with radio noise. Music streaming from Rapid City’s Top 40. “We Used To Be Friends” by The Dandy Warhols got Jo’s head nodding a little as she stared ahead at the road. Charlie got into it, too, singing along to the lyrics she didn’t know. Jo smiled at her, a wide fool’s grin that showed all of her teeth. This was it. This was perfect. It made Charlie hesitate to believe that heaven was a place on Earth. That place might have just been with Jo Harvelle.

When they got to Mount Rushmore, they parked in a parking lot that was more a series of winding, fat roads with painted lines more than an organized space. A family of five got out of a red minivan beside them. They joined a tourism group, blending in with the sunhats and knock-off Chanel sunglasses as a man in khaki cargo shorts showed them up the walking paths of the mountain. The further up they got, the angrier the energy got. It didn’t make sense, until it did.

“On October 4, 1927, sculptor Gutzon Borglum began carving the famous faces of Mount Rushmore. The project was originally conceived by Doane Robinson, who thought that the sculptures would increase tourism to South Dakota in the early 1920’s. Clearly,” the tour guide said, smiling smugly, “He was right.”

The guide’s voice faded to background noise as they continued up the mountain. Eventually Jo stopped, sitting down in the middle of the path. Charlie sat, too, effectively breaking off from the group. The tour guide didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, he didn’t care. Perhaps he liked hearing himself talk to these lowly, uneducated tourists too much that he didn’t care of the security concern of two people just hangin’ out on a hiking trail, millions of feet above any solid ground. They were just teenage girls after all, he probably thought.

They sat, and Charlie didn’t notice it, but she was staring at Jo. Trying to commit her image to memory, just in case. Just in case she made the stupid decision. She’d been counting her approximate savings in the back of her head ever since Jo had mentioned it. Between her next two paychecks- that Ellen was a little late on, because things had been a tad slow- and the rest of the money she had hidden in the back of her top dresser drawer, she had enough to fund at least six months of contiguous state travel. No airplanes, though, and she’d have to spread out gas, lay off a bit on the partying. Drinks were uber expensive these days. But she could do that. Hit up a local library in some good-for-nothing town, wipe out the fantasy literature section in a matter of weeks. That was free.

She was forming a plan B, if the shit hit the fan tomorrow morning. Charlie had been kicked out a few times- most notably when she was sixteen, two years ago. It was the one time she’d tried to enroll herself into school again, as an emancipated minor. She’d befriended a girl named Ashley, and Ashley found out she lived alone on the dangerous side of town. Her mother was concerned for her daughter's best friend, so she had her move in. After all, Charlie was a bright young girl, a good influence on her daughter. It felt like a fairy tale from there on out. Ashley and Charlie grew closer- closer than best friends. At it’s peak, when everything was good, that’s when shit hit the fan.

All her mind would let her remember from that night is hurriedly packing her bags, Ashley’s eyes wide, clear pools of tears, her cheeks streaming with them as she stood in the corner of her room. Her mother’s cheeks red from hollering about unholy corruption; turned out she was one of those Westboro Baptist types.

Would that happen here? Would Ellen cuss her out as she packed her bags, Jo crying and trying to reason with her mom? Charlie could imagine it now, staring off into space and the side of Jo’s temple. It made her want to throw up over the cliff.

“It’s beautiful up here,” Jo said. She turned to look at Charlie, smiling a little when she caught her staring.

Charlie looked away, straight ahead. The sky was clear and the sun was happy, shining blindingly down on the mountains and plains of South Dakota. But the ground was burning hot under the palms of her hands, and the air felt angry. There was something wrong here. Perhaps it was the United States presidents’ faces that were chiseled into the side of the mountain. Maybe it was global warming- though that Ohio State University researcher said a couple years back that it may end by the time she was thirty six.

What would she be by that time? Where would she be? She couldn’t imagine a white picket fence, with a wife and kids. God, a wife wasn’t even possible. And kids… It was all too much to think about. A little too normal for the likes of Charlie Bradbury.

Would be still be here, with Jo? Back at the Roadhouse, slinging brews and playing pool with Ash?

Something mentally kicked her, and she was reminded of her no thinking rule. Also of the fact that she’d probably been too quiet for too long, not answering Jo’s question.

“Sure,” she said. “I mean, it’s pretty.”

“Do you think you could name somewhere nicer?” Jo asked.

Charlie, ironically, though. “Hmm. Probably. There is this really pretty apple orchard I drove by in Pennsylvania. The perfect place to find a Red Delicious tree nymph, all misty and enchanting.” Jo snorted. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just… that’s kind of adorable.”

“Oh, what? So you don’t think it’s possible for a Red Delicious nymph to exist?” Charlie moved closer, holding Jo’s gaze.

“No,” Jo said, laughing like it was glaringly obvious.

“You know something I don’t?” It was meant as a joke, but the mood seemed to fall flat onto the rocks below them as Jo’s expression changed. She looked like she had been slapped. Then she stood up.

“We should get back to the group.” They were far ahead, so far it looked like miles away, tiny human figures further up the mountain hiking path. Jo swatted the dirt off her shorts, then walked briskly away, not waiting on Charlie.

It was noon by the time they’d finished their tour of the mountain, of all the attractions and the hiking trail. The energy felt like it was getting progressively angrier with every second they stayed, and Jo had spoken next to none, probably riding on the excuse of expansive sightseeing. Now that was over, and it was time to head back. The blonde’s stomach grumbled, making sure to give them another reason for a pit stop.

They stopped at Peggy’s Place, just off of 16A. “Keystone’s Home Cookin’ Café” is what it said underneath. A neon red OPEN sign flashed in the large windows, the N burnt out. The American flag hung proudly at the side of the doors, next to a realty newspaper dispenser. Inside, the walls were paneled with speckled oak planks. The table were sandy and glossy, black and silver chairs pushed underneath in groups of four. An older woman with grey-blonde hair looked up when she heard the two come in, smiling warmly.

“Welcome to Peggy’s,” she greeted them. She grabbed two laminated menus, ushering them to a table near the window. It was fairly busy- families, mostly nuclear, sat at almost all of the tables, chowing down on comfort food.

Jo and Charlie sat across from each other, their server setting the menus down in front of them. At the top, it said Lunch. Very apt. “Can I get you something to drink?” the woman asked. Her side bangs fell just above her eyebrow, the ends jagged spikes. She was definitely going for a more modern look.

“Coke” Jo said.

“Just a water,” said Charlie. After scribbling it down on her pad with her pen, the woman nodded. Her name tag read ‘DEB’ in bold green letters. She bustled away. Charlie immediately faced Jo. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Are _we…_ okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Why?”

“Well, back at the mountain… you kinda’ just walked off and just- just kept walking off.”

Jo looked up from the black and white salt n’ pepper shakers she was playing with. “We’re fine, alright? I was just… stuck in it all. You only see that sort of thing once. And considering I’m good as dead when I get home...” There was a soft, sad chuckle at the end of her sentence, the sound made by teenagers globally when they were doing something they knew would get them grounded for the rest of their lives. Charlie reached across the glossy table, resting her hand on top of Jo’s.

The gesture made Jo’s heart feel warm. She glanced to her left, saw the mother of two with the badly layered blowout that was covertly staring at them, withdrew her hand like she was touching a hot stove top. Deb arrived with their drinks before Charlie could say anything.

“A water for you,” she said, mighty neighborly, “And a Coke for you.” Charlie pursed her lips. Jo took a long sip of her drink. “Now, have you decided what you’ll both be eatin’ today?”

“I’ll have a Buffalo Burger,” Jo said, putting down her glass. Deb scribbled on her notepad.

“A Reuben sandwich with cheese, please,” said Charlie. More scribbling. 

She looked up, smiled and said, “I’ll be back with your orders,” the ‘eventually’ unspoken.

Jo could still feel the mother’s eyes burning into her side. It caught Charlie’s attention too. “Oh god…” she mumbled.

“Yeah,” Jo said pointedly. Deb hadn’t taken their menus. It was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. Usually she kept a cool head, or would have confronted the lady by now. She just felt paralyzed.

“I never told you that story,” Charlie said.

“What story?”

“You wanted to know why the front desk clerk knew my name. Back at the motel. Well, I’ll tell you.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so…” she began, telling the story as she remembered it; perhaps a little more epic than it actually was, downplaying the utter shit-your-pants fear that she had been feeling. By the end, though, Jo was laughing and the mother with the terrible layers had left, ushering her children out the door as Charlie watched her leave. Deb arrived with their food. The burger had onions and tomato spilling out of the bun. The sandwich looked a little underwhelming.

They ate. The assumption about the Reuben was correct. Charlie was regretting the extra seventy five cent slice of cheddar cheese as she reached into her wallet to pay.

“It’s on me,” said Jo.

“Everything’s been on you.” Charlie took out a two ten dollar bills, the green fibers of the bill smooth from handling and transaction under her fingers. The feeling took her back to that gas station in Nebraska, many nights ago now. She had felt a pit in her stomach when she gave the teenaged cashier some of the lasts of her cash. She didn’t have that feeling now, as she slipped the bills along with sixty cents in change into the leather bill book. Grabbing her glass, she took the last sip of her water.

Jo and Charlie pushed through the front doors of the diner, back into the outdoors. They got into Charlie’s Mustang, the engine turning over. The trembling of the parking lot pavement caught something- someone’s attention. Or perhaps it was Jo’s blonde hair, or her vague familiarity of being seen _somewhere, I just can’t put my finger on it._ And the memories recalled were vaguely unpleasant, potentially painful.

It caught someone’s attention, and as the Mustang pulled back onto the road surrounded by lush, green trees, they watched it go. They made sure they would see it again.

The two didn’t notice, still in the Mustang driving away from Peggy’s Place and colonized Mount Rushmore. There was a long lull, a comfortable pause in conversation since Charlie had said, “It’s always on you,” in the restaurant. A part of Jo wanted to figure out what she meant. A part of Charlie wanted to, too.

Because it was- it _was_ always on Jo. She did more work at the Roadhouse than Charlie, naturally. They were both equally hard workers, but she was the owner’s daughter. Later nights, more recycling duty. Higher standards and all of that. Jo held herself to fairly high standards as well. It seemed that this trip, this two day trip to Rapid City for an REO Speedwagon concert had set those standards on a proverbial chopping block, and the knife had come down and they were now destroyed. Gone, maybe not forever, but for now.

In place of them was Charlie. Bright, sun-like Charlie that seemed to make everything a bit better, just a bit more bearable. She made living the life Jo did easier.

She’d let Charlie into her heart, she thought. It was a spectacular and terrifying thought.

It was late now. The sky was darkening quickly, the moon rising and hanging in the sky like a silver coin. Charlie’s mind buzzed, so much so she felt she could do anything- perhaps, reach up and pluck the moon coin right out of the sky. She was happily overwhelmed with excitement; she’d never been to a concert before. There had been offers, but they had never been of interest. Now she felt she couldn’t wait. She wondered what had changed.

Jo had brought an outfit specifically for tonight- fishnets and denim shorts and a long black tank top with large, saggy holes for the arms. She looked so not Jo-like, more like the girls in MTV music videos. That was probably the point. She walked out of the bathroom, motioning to her clothes.

“What do you think?”

Charlie sat on her bed, staring at the television. _Aqua Teen Hunger Force_ reruns.

“You look… you look…” How was she supposed to say fantastically beautiful without coming off as weird. “You look great,” she finally said. A safe landing.

Jo grinned. “Thanks.” They held eye contact for a moment, then, “Are you ready to go?”

“Whenever you are,” Charlie said. Jo grabbed her bags from beside her bed, then looked up at the redhead.

“Let’s go then.” Charlie shouldered her duffel bag, following Jo out. She watched the motel room door disappear behind the door, the room closing shut for the final time.

The walk down the hallway felt oddly final, too. Charlie could feel it. She wondered if Jo could too. It felt heavy, but in an uncertain way; a ‘this could go either way’ sort of feeling. The elevator doors slid open, stopping for a millisecond before opening entirely. They stepped on, same as usual. She watched as the hideous walls disappeared behind silver metal.

Jo looked giddy, and she looked grunge.

“Earth to Charlie,” she said. “Hey, you’re staring.”

“Sorry, just- admiring. You should only ever wear this.” Jo hummed, nodding.

“I’ll take it into consideration, just for you. My mother might have some complaints, though.”

“As self appointed Roadhouse HR, she can take it up with me,” Charlie said. She liked this. She loved this.

The elevator interrupted their conversation with a high pitched ‘ding!’, doors opening again- one final time, she remembered- to reveal the blood red lobby. The walls of the room still hurt to look at.

Jo and Charlie walked forward, towards the front desk. None other than Yvette stood there, still looking bored even days later. She was chewing something. As Jo set down her bag, Yvette blew a pink bubble. It popped, loudly, in Jo’s face. The desk clerk sucked the gum back into her mouth, smiling.

“Checking out?” she asked monotonously?

Jo gritted her teeth. Charlie placed her hand lightly on her arm. “Yes, we are,” she intervened. She handed Yvette the room key, which she hung back up on the key wall behind her. Then she got out a fancy gold and black pen, clicking it obnoxiously before filling out a receipt. She handed it to Charlie.

“Computer’s busted,” was all Yvette said. Charlie took the written receipt, Jo grabbing her bags and following her out into the night.

The Mustang was waiting dutifully right where they’d left it earlier. This time, Jo got behind the wheel. The drive to Rapid City Concert Hall was a comfortably quiet one. Jo had her hand down next to the stick shift, her fingers touching Charlie’s.

At Rapid City Concert Hall, something was waiting. Not because of them, no, it wasn’t targeting Charlie and Jo. It was called there, by the human activity. All those hearts, human hearts beating in one place. The thing, half human and half beast, couldn’t help itself. Tipsy teenagers and middle aged rock fans passed, stumbling, walking, running into the building, unaware of the passive danger hidden feet away from them. But none of them were right- they weren’t good enough. He would wait. Wait until the right one arrived.

Jo was using the car horn liberally as they slowly, agonizingly made their way through the concert hall parking lot. It was large, but packed- with people, cars that were mostly pickup trucks and chunky oldies. She honked again as a tattooed man with premature balding flipped her the bird.

“It’s like you’re sleeping on that thing,” Charlie said. A gaggle of men in their twenties passed the nose of the car, one of them briefly bumping into the headlight. They were clearly very, very drunk. Jo honked again.

Then she sighed. “Sorry, just- I don’t wanna’ miss it.”

“I get it,” Charlie said. “Don’t worry.”

Finally, the path ahead was clear of pedestrians. Jo pulled forward, snaking a parking spot from a 1990 Range Rover. Anxiety set into Charlie’s bones as Jo pulled the stick into Park. She remembered her plan.

Reaching into the backseat, she grabbed her bag. “What are you doing?” Jo asked.

Charlie set the duffel in her lap, unzipping a side pouch. There were two mini vodka bottles stashed inside. She held them up for Jo to see. “I though, y’know, before the concert we’d do a little pre-gaming?”

Jo’s eyebrows rose as far as they could on her forehead as she tilted her head to the side. She seemed to think it over for a second, before she said, “Sure.” Charlie handed her one, then broke the cap on one of hers and started to drink. She caught Jo watching her out of the corner of her eye.

“Chug, chug, chug!” she started chanting. Charlie closed her eyes, trying to hold in her laugh so she wouldn’t sputter up vodka. She concentrated, finishing the mini bottle. Her throat burned.

She shoved Jo, just slightly. “Asshole!” she said.

“Just a little motivation, is all,” Jo said. Then she cracked the cap on her own mini bottle, turning it upside down, connected to her lips. She downed it faster than Charlie imagined possible.

“Holy shit,” Charlie said. Jo let out a sigh as she finished.

“Learned skill. I can down an entire keg, too.” Then she thought for a moment. “Don’t tell my mom.”

“Tell your mom what?” Charlie asked, playing dumb. Jo shook her head slowly.

“You are a bad influence, Charlie Bradbury.” For a second she thought she was sixteen again, sitting in Rapid City with Ashley from so long ago. She swallowed the feeling.

“As are you, Jo Harvelle,” she said. “You ready, then?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

They stepped out of the car. Charlie’s heart was beating a mile a minute. It felt like it would explode; the things crawling in the dark parts of the universe tuned in and listening, waiting for it. What she didn’t know was, they were.

There was a line down and around the building. “So I was thinking,” Jo said as they waited, “Maybe you and I should spend more time together, after this. Like, um- at the Roadhouse. Get to know each other, the whole… friend shebang.” The line shuffled forward. “I don’t want _this_ to just end after we get back.”

“Well, I already said I’m not going anywhere. I kind of figured I would need something to do,” Charlie said. Jo looked confused. “I’d like that. The whole hanging out thing,” she clarified.

When they got to the doors, a buff man in a black polo shirt and slacks awaited them. Jo handed him the tickets. He looked them over scrutably, then handed them back to her. Charlie had seen him check previous girls’ purses, too. They weren’t kidding around with security. It didn’t make her feel any safer. The man checked their IDs, handed them back, and drew X’s on the backs of their hands with a bright green marker.

Inside, it already smelled like sweat. Jo laughed through her nose at the face Charlie made.

“You’re at a venue with what I’ll guess are hundreds of mostly sweaty middle aged men,” Jo said over the noise of the crowd. “I’d get used to it.”

Charlie grabbed her hand, pulling her along. “Come on.” They moved forward along the floor, squishing between other people to get up to the staircase. Someone had dropped a drink already, the stairs sticky as she and Charlie made their way up to the upper level.

“Sorry for the cheap spots,” Jo said.

“I can actually breathe up here, so I’ll say that it wasn’t the worst decision you could have made.” It was a standing venue, no uncomfortable stadium seats in sight. It was still crowded up here, but less so that Charlie could hold Jo’s hand and still have a little arm room to spare. “So who’s the opening act?”

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” someone yelled into the microphone. The crowd cheered loudly. Jo howled with them, nudging Charlie as she did. “I said, how’s everyone doing tonight?!” the man on stage yelled again. Charlie cheered with Jo this time. “Alright, alright. For our opening act tonight, I’d like to welcome to the stage… Sister Hazel!”

A drum beat started, accompanied by a few keyboard notes. Ken Block began crooning the first lines to “Change Your Mind.”

“I think I heard this in a movie once,” Charlie said over the music. Someone shushed her. Jo laughed at the face she made, moving closer to her. Their hands were still together, shoulders squished. Jo’s heart sped up when their fingers brushed together.

Charlie leaned her head against Jo’s shoulder. Hesitantly, Jo wrapped her arm around Charlie’s waist. When her eyes darted up from the stage, Jo started pulling it away. Charlie simply smiled and pulled it back, playing with Jo’s fingers.

“I’m really happy to be here with you,” she said close to Jo’s ear. The pros now definitely outweighed the cons. Forget the world’s first supercomputer that has all of America’s finest brews.

Sister Hazel finished their set twenty minutes later. You could visibly see the difference in Jo when REO stepped onstage. The crowd roared with that same energy.

“We are REO Speedwagon!” Kevin Cronin’s voice boomed far and wide.

The music started out strong, “Ridin’ The Storm Out.” Charlie was almost sure that Jo might climb down to the lower level and crowd surf to the stage.

She didn’t have to say it to feel it. This was amazing. Her hand slipped into Jo’s easily. This was all she had ever wanted. Maybe it wasn’t conventional- there wasn’t a white picket fence surrounding the Roadhouse parking lot, no blooming tulips in flower boxes decorating the faded wood of the building. It felt right. For a life full of things feeling wrong and temporary, this felt right. It felt like it would stay. Like Charlie would stay.

Jo pulled away. She had a grimace on her face. “Bathroom,” she said, almost apologetically. Charlie nodded, letting her go. She watched Jo’s blonde hair disappear sideways into the crowd. The music continued. Charlie smiled, still looking at the spot where Jo disappeared for a moment longer.

She kept glancing back at that spot, where a girl in a shirt that looked straight out of _Billy Madison_ was now jumping up and down with her boyfriend. Every time she looked, her smile fell a little bit more as the minutes passed and Jo still hadn’t returned. The minutes started piling up, Jo taking longer and longer to get back up there. Eventually Charlie was shoved away from the spot on the balcony, but she didn’t pay the man who’d shoved her any mind. She kept staring at the spot until the concert ended, the people next to her down on their hype and clearing out towards the exits downstairs in droves.

She stayed, looking around in the last leaving huddles for Jo’s face.

“Ma’am,” a gravelly voice said from behind her. Charlie turned to see a security guard, standing tall in a shadowy uniform behind her. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. The concert’s over,” he said obviously. She nodded meekly, making her way towards the stairs.

Outside, she stood by the doors until her feet hurt. Then she sat on the curb until the doors closed, guards locking them from the inside meaning no one could get in or out without a key. So that was it, then. Jo was gone. She’d ditched her here, of all places; the thing she’d been looking forward to the entire time.

Charlie stormed angrily through the parking lot, betting inside her head that she’d stolen the Mustang too. Luckily, it was still where it had been parked hours before. When Charlie finally sat down in the driver’s seat, she took a moment. A simple moment of not moving, not breathing, not thinking. She noticed the weakness in her hands, how her legs felt a thousand times heavier and how her arms were shaking as she held onto the steering wheel. She could feel the tears waiting under her skin, ready to break any moment now. It felt like she’d drank hot lemon soup, her heart beating fast.

But she wasn’t sad. No, Charlie was angry. At Jo, for leaving and stringing her along. At herself, for falling for it yet again. Was she destined to be alone and heartbroken? She should have stayed out of Nebraska after all. Stayed in Detroit, stayed Caroline Card. In that moment, if Charlie could have turned back time she would have. This, all of _this_ wasn’t worth the pain. It never had been. The tears never broke. Charlie turned the car’s ignition, pulling the eight-gear into drive. She was getting the hell out of this town. Charlie had to get back to the Roadhouse; she had some things to pack.

Something that Charlie didn’t know, though, as she drove down the interstate further and further away from Rapid City, was that Jo hadn’t ditched her. In fact, she hadn’t left at all.

When she’d left Charlie alone up there, it had been for a reason. She’d heard something. It was a noise just past the blaring classic rock that made her skin get goosebumps, that she later on figured her ear was always looking for. The sound of danger, of another damsel in distress or a beast on the hunt. It was like a drug, in a way. The sound of the scream got her blood pumping, adrenaline flowing. Instinct kicked in, and ignored it turned to paranoia. There was a monster here tonight, that she was almost certain.

But Charlie. She couldn’t bring her into this. Jo had tried so hard to keep her out of this, avoided her discovery at every turn, sworn to her mother that she wouldn’t. “A girl like her doesn’t need to be dragged into something like this,” Ellen had said. It had made Jo feel guilty, and a little upset. Charlie and her weren’t so different. Why did she get to live in blissful ignorance? And on the flip side, why wasn’t she allowed to know about the things that went bump in the night, things that could kill her? Jo kept her promise, though; she still hadn’t said a word. She had to keep it that way.

She pulled away from Charlie, who looked up at her like a wounded puppy. Her stomach churned. “Bathroom,” she lied. It even sounded guilty as she said it, but Charlie nodded. Jo made her way through the crowd to the stairs, disappearing between two burly older men who smelled of nothing but body odor.

Once she made it downstairs, Jo was on the hunt. She couldn’t see any obvious claws or teeth in the crowd, eventually being pushed out towards the edge. She stumbled back a bit, almost slipping on something. Looking down, she saw a small crimson pool beneath her foot. You wouldn’t notice it in the dark under reflecting stage lights unless you were looking for it. Jo lifted her head, eyes following similar dark red drops along the outskirts of the crowd. They lead to a door, now closed. ‘STAFF ONLY’, said a neon orange sign.

It opened easily. It was too dark inside to see, and she couldn’t hear anything. Jo turned, looking up at where she should have been standing. She couldn’t see Charlie. Maybe she should have gone back. Probably. But maybe this was her chance to prove herself. Come back with a monster’s head in the trunk, maybe her mom would finally believe her; that she could hunt, on her own too.

Jo stepped through the door, into the darkness.

The door fell shut behind her, muffling the noise. It was like someone had put REO and the crowd on mute, only remnants of sound remaining. Her footsteps were silent along the concrete floor. The darkness let up at the end of the hall, a yellow light seemingly flickering just around the corner. She walked it slowly, peaking around the corner. It was a room, six cream coloured walls forming a hexagon. Rusted pipes ran up and down the walls, metal boxes connected to some of them; this must have been some sort of mechanical room.

A woman stood, crouched in a corner. There was blood on her dress, lacerations along her arms. She looked terrified, crying at the figure standing over her. A werewolf, Jo guessed by the talons and heavy stench of wet dog. She had no way of properly going about this; no gear, no weapons, no backup. There was no time for a plan now.

“Hey!” Jo yelled, stepping out from behind the wall. The werewolf turned around as the woman’s eyes shot up to her.

The monster snarled, face turning into an angry sneer. “You’re just in time for the party,” he said.

Jo rushed him, no other ideas coming to mind. His back slammed into the wall just to the right of the woman. He groaned in pain, pushing her back. “Hunter bitch!”

He went in for a left hook. Jo ducked, kicking him in his stomach. The werewolf didn’t even keel over, lunging at her, fangs out. He tackled her to the floor. She held her arm up in resistance, trying to keep him from biting her. Kicking his legs off of her, they both rolled over. The werewolf easily threw Jo off of himself. Her head hit the ground, hard. The werewolf chuckled, walking towards her slowly as she crawled backwards, back eventually hitting the wall.

The werewolf crouched in front of Jo as her doubled. “Now,” he said, waggling his clawed fingers, “This piggy went to the market, and this little piggy stayed home.” He jammed his claws into her stomach. “And this little piggy went all the way home.”

The pain was everywhere, Jo crying out loudly. He held up his bloodied hand for the final blow when Jo caught a glimpse of someone behind him. His other victim, the woman previously sitting on the floor, held a jagged ended pipe in her hands. She clipped the top of his head. The werewolf yelled, turning around. Once facing each other, the woman froze just long enough for him to grab her by the neck. The werewolf lifted her high above himself, watching as she strained in his grasp. The pipe fell to the floor, rolling away. Rolling towards Jo.

The woman’s head lolled forward, and the werewolf let her body drop. It was the heavy sound of a dead person’s body.

When he turned back to Jo, she was now standing, pipe in hand. He chuckled, but she surged forward, pinning him to the wall with the pipe at his throat. He reached up, futilly grasping at his neck.

“See you in hell, son of a bitch.” Jo pulled the pipe back, using all of her strength to drive the sharp end through his heart. She stepped back. The werewolf’s body fell from the wall slowly, blood smearing as it did.

There was a door along the hall that led to the Dumpsters behind the building. Across the street, Jo spotted a gas station’s neon sign. Inside, she fixed herself up with duct tape and travel packs of tissues. Going back inside to get the bodies made her skin crawl. That woman had saved her life, when truly it was Jo’s job to save hers. This was not a job to remember, or celebrate. Certainly not something to tell Ellen. She just wanted to forget it all, let Charlie wash it all away. She hadn’t realized she’d lost track of so much time.

Jo explored the almost empty parking lot, looking among the leftover cars left in the lot to see if Charlie would miraculously be waiting in one, pissed but still there. She wasn’t. Her heart dropped.

Suddenly Jo couldn’t tell what was worse: the pain in her stomach or the pain in her chest. Charlie was gone. Probably off to form another life again, and she didn’t even say goodbye.

Jo was so preoccupied with that train of thought that she didn’t care about the gravity of what was going to happen once she got home. She called Ash, because of course she did. There was no other way of getting home.

“I need you to come pick me up?” was the first thing Jo said.

“And hello to you, too. If you don’t mind my asking, where have you been? Ellen called me back to the Roadhouse, thinking I’d stashed you and taken you with me,” Ash said.

“I’m in Rapid City. Ash, I just need you to come pick me up. Can you do that for me?” Tears were starting to stream down her face.

“Yeah, Jo. I’ll come. But you’ve got some explaining to do. Your mom might just kill ya’.”

“Okay,” was all she said. She told him where she was. Then she hung up.

The drive felt a million miles longer with the silence. Every time they passed a road sign, Jo hoped they’d be getting closer and farther away from the Roadhouse at the same time. She was well aware of the mountain of shit waiting for her back home.

Ash’s truck pulled into the driveway. Charlie watched from the porch as Jo got out from the passenger side, striding towards the building. When she was up the stairs and close enough, she shoved Charlie.

“What the hell?”

“So you just fucking left me, huh? Nice. Real classy,” Jo said.

 _“I_ didn’t leave, Jo. You did.”

“Well clearly I didn’t, because I was still there when I called Ash to come and pick me up.” Jo turned, looking back out at the parking lot. Ash was leaning against his truck, trying to act like he wasn’t very obviously watching their altercation.

“You disappeared. What was I supposed to think?” Charlie asked.

Jo fumbled for a long moment, searching for something to say. “I don’t know what you were supposed to think. But you shouldn’t have left,” she said.

“That’s completely unreasonable!” Charlie yelled.

“How?” Jo asked, equally as loud.

“Then where were you?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you didn’t leave,” Charlie began, “If you didn’t disappear out of nowhere- going and doing God knows what- then where were you?” Jo knew what she was really thinking. She could see the hurt in Charlie’s eyes. Her pale arms were crossed over her stomach as she waited for a response. Jo didn’t give her one. “That’s what I thought.”

She turned, pulling the the door open and walking inside, leaving Jo on the porch alone. After a minute, Ash came up the stairs and passed her, not looking back as he headed inside.

Charlie ripped open the dresser drawers, gathering her clothes in quick, messy piles. She shoved them into her bag, trying to make the tears welling in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks magically go away.

It was a party, she thought. People did stuff. Jo might’ve gone and done something. Why did that bother her so much, if she had? Charlie knew why. It bothered her because she cared. She cared who Jo did stuff with and cared about. She wanted it to be her.

There was a creak in the floorboards. She turned. Charlie saw the locks of blonde hair hiding around the corner before she saw Jo’s face. “What do you want?” she asked harshly, turning back to her bag.

“To talk,” Jo said. “If you’d give me a minute to explain.”

Charlie huffed through her nose, closing her eyes. The remaining tears slid down her face. She wiped at them quickly before turning to face Jo. “One minute.”

“You’re right, Charlie. I did leave. There’s a reason for that…” She took a deep breath, preparing to dive into the speech. That monsters were real, and she’d killed one last night. Rusting silver pipe through the heart, actually. And no, she wasn’t crazy, and there were more monsters than werewolves- she’d tell her all about them if Charlie would let her.

“And where in the Samhain have you two been the last couple of days?” someone interrupted. Ellen’s voice boomed down the hallway, straight into the bedroom. A feeling of terror overcame Charlie, and Jo’s eyes widened, back stick straight now.

Footsteps approached, and soon Ellen was standing in the same spot Jo had been moments before. She looked livid.

“Momma, please- can we do this somewhere el-”

“You will answer me, and you will answer me now,” Ellen said.

Charlie broke. “We went to a concert. In Rapid City. I drove,” she said. Ellen’s face twisted almost impossibly. She swallowed. Her eyes moved from Jo and lingered for a long time, as if she were communicating to her daughter that way somehow. Then they shifted to Charlie, narrowing ever so slightly before relaxing.

“It was my idea,” Jo cut in. “I dragged Charlie into it, momma. It’s not her fault.”

“I don’t care who’s fault it is, it happened! You left, without telling me- without any _protection.”_ That confused Charlie. What Ellen was referring to seemed like something she was yet to be let in on. “Charlie. Pack your bags.”

“Momma, no!” Jo said firmly. She put her hand on Charlie’s arm.

“This is my house, I make the decisions,” Ellen said. She turned to Charlie. “I never want to see your face again, you hear me?” Her voice was suspiciously calm. Charlie nodded.

Ellen left the room, leaving the door open behind her.

It didn’t feel real, leaving that place. Charlie had her bags packed within the hour, and it didn’t feel like a genuine experience as she loaded them into the back of her car. Her hands felt translucent and weightless, her legs daydream jelly. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real.

Ellen and Ash waited on the porch to see her go, Ash less of a willing participant in the matter. Charlie had always liked him.

When she looked up at Jo’s window, there was nothing there but a drawn grey curtain. As she pulled the eight-gear into drive, it moved over an inch. She could see Jo’s eye out the window, watching her. Something painful sprouted in her chest. Charlie looked away, stepping on the gas pedal. The ‘91 Mustang disappeared in a cloud of dirt and dust.

_Epilogue_

The roads were dark. The leather seats vibrated just slightly as the car made it’s way across the freeway. Behind the wheel sat Charlie Bradbury, tears in her eyes. A well had grown inside her, joining the many names and many lives she had lived. A well of tears, that felt never-ending. Bottomless. Perhaps it siphoned off those past lives.

Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten in almost a day. The black X from a magic marker was still fading on the back of her hand. It felt like the pain would never go away. It had bloomed in her chest, but now it was everywhere; arms, legs, hands and fingers. It felt prickly and sad and devastated. It felt like it would never go away.

There were lights up ahead; dirty and neon blue. She pulled into the Gas N’ Sip, parking the car horizontally between two gas pumps under the metal canopy. Charlie sucked in a breath, trying to calm down. You couldn’t look hysterical in front of strangers at night. Though maybe since they were gas station attendants, they wouldn’t care. It was the type of job where eventually, you’ve seen it all.

The car door echoed after she slammed it. Charlie shoved her fist in her pocket. There was a short, quiet tearing sound. She poked her pointer finger through a new, knuckle sized hole.

She could feel the dirt and grime on the gas station door handle. A bell didn’t jingle above her head. Charlie made a bee-line for the aisle ahead of her, whatever it held, trying to avoid the eyes of the clerk landing on her face.

She found a bag of barbecue chips and an expired pack of gum. This place didn’t have a Slushie machine- she had looked. The chips landed with a ‘thwap’ on the clear plastic counter that displayed the lottery tickets underneath- MAX LOTTO, Jackpot, Golden Win. Charlie felt like a lottery winner- a consistent one, too. Life Destroyed Lotto really had her raking it in.

The man behind the counter was about an inch taller than her, with thick red-rimmed glasses. He didn’t comment on her tear stained cheeks or puffy eyes that were a colour to rival his glasses. ‘HUGO’ simply scanned the two items before handing them back to her.

“Six dollars, seventeen cents please.” She opened her wallet. It was fairly flush with bills. She handed him a five and a one, Abe Lincoln and George Washington staring up at them both. The fished for fifteen cents and two pennies, placing them down on the counter. Hugo placed the bills in their respectful slots inside the cash register before scooping up the change, counting it, and dropping it in the change slot.

“Would you like a receipt?”

“No,” Charlie said. That was the last thing she wanted. A physical reminder of tonight- of what had happened. Of her.

She took the gum and the chips and walked out of the gas station. Her car was cold now, the chill from outside having slowly seeped in. Charlie moved to stick the keys into the car’s ignition. She didn’t. Her back hit the seat harshly, her body slipping down into a slouched position. Her head was almost level with the steering wheel.

She cried. It started out quiet, small drops falling from her eyes again. Soon, fat tears and painful coughs emerged, her chest heaving. 

Charlie fell asleep in the Mustang, parked horizontally between two gas pumps. Hugo was surprised to still see it there at midnight when his shift was up. He was about to knock on her window, tell her she had to leave when he saw the backseat. The bags. He swallowed, looking at her again. Hugo went home without knocking.

It felt like she would never get over this. It was apart of her now, and she would carry it around with her wherever she went. Charlie would never be able to forget her- forget Jo. This was the way things would be, always.

_**TEN YEARS LATER** _

Charlie somehow still wasn’t used to the ungodly hours she had to wake up nowadays. If that was the only price for a steady job, though, she’d take it. Chicago was finally starting to feel like her home.

She shuffled out of bed, feet landing on the floor. Her neck cracked as she stretched. A lazy huff of a laugh came out of her nose; she used to be able to roll out of an uncomfortable car mid-morning like it was no problem. The woes of getting older, she figured.

Coffee, then a shower. She stared at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. It was surreal sometimes, looking at herself. There was still the slightest bit of baby fat around her jaw, her younger self muddled and hidden by who she was now. Her eyes were less wide and curious than they used to be. She’d explored the world, and hadn’t liked too much of what she’d seen.

Charlie’s cellphone buzzed on the edge of the porcelain sink; an alarm, her fifteen minute warning. She spit in the sink, leaving the bathroom and her reflection behind to get dressed.

The parking garage of the apartment building consistently smelled of damp every day, no matter the weather outside. In Charlie’s parking spot was her motorcycle. Getting her license was probably one of the scariest experiences of her life. Probably. But it had been worth it.

She’d sold her 1991 Mustang years ago now, for a solid nine hundred bucks. The mileage certainly wasn’t great, and the breaks were getting shoddy, but the buyer was a collector willing to pay the price. The money was just enough for first month’s rent and a security deposit of her old apartment.

Her helmet rested on the bike’s left handle. She straddled the seat, grabbing it and strapping it on her head. Reaching into her sweater pocket, she grabbed the keys and stuck them in the ignition, turning. The engine turned over, the motorcycle jumping to like. Charlie smiled inside her helmet, grabbing the handles. She stopped in front of the garage door, swiping the key fob her landlord gave her over the key card sensor. The garage door slowly lifted, mechanical buzz bouncing off of the concrete walls.

The drive felt the same as it always did; a bit of a monotonous zoom through the city, passing apartment buildings and commercial high rises. Charlie couldn’t say she didn’t miss the road, the travel; not knowing where the highway would take her. The cushy desk job and consistent pay check didn’t have her wanting to pull away for a road trip, though. She wasn’t a kid anymore. Those days were over.

The building was busy as she walked through the ground floor to the elevator. Martha, the slinky blonde at the front desk who’d been chatting Charlie up on occasion for the past few weeks nodded to her as she walked by. Charlie waved back.

She stopped at the elevator doors, pressing the metal button to call it. She watched the small digital screen above the doors as she waited, watching the numbers fall until it turned to a letter, G. Ground floor. The doors opened silently. She stepped onto the car, looking ahead at the view of the expansive parking lot through the glass walls. 

The doors closed. Charlie stood in silence. She’d left her headphones at her desk the day before. Eventually she reached her floor, getting off and heading towards her desk.

Harry was hunched over his computer monitor, same as usual. He looked up when Charlie passed him.”Morning,” he said, turning in his office chair.

“Morning,” Charlie sighed, sitting. She waited a moment for her computer to boot up. There was a quiet nose, like a low mumble. “What is that?” She turned to look at Harry.

“Oh,” he said, gesturing to his desk. “I got this new mini radio for work. Figured I might as well listen to my favourite tunes while I work.”

“Cool. The song sounds familiar.”

“I’ve just got it on 94.5 right now,” he said. Charlie looked lost. “94.5, Pop Wave Weekly?” Harry said it like it was obvious. “Listen.” He turned the volume dial on the small machine.

It took her a minute to give it a name, but she definitely knew the song. She hadn’t heard it in what felt like a lifetime. OutKast, “Hey Ya!” Suddenly it felt like she was behind the wheel, driving down the interstate to start time again.

“Shut it off,” she said abruptly.

“What?”

“Just shut it off!”

There was a click, and the music was gone. Charlie was back in her desk chair, back in Chicago, back in reality. Harry looked mildly scared. She looked around to see if anyone else caught her little outburst, but the coast looked to be clear.

“Sorry, I just… I don’t like that song,” she said. Harry nodded. It was a horrible excuse, she knew.

She spun back around to her monitor, which was glowing bright, waiting for her to sign in. She entered her password, clicking open a file folder.

This was how things were. Charlie didn’t see them changing any time soon. She didn’t _want_ them to change, not really.

If only she’d known what was to come.


End file.
